by Mandy Baggot
Freya put her hands to her face and felt a surge of fear run through her. She began to feel like her chest was going to burst and the grip of terror rose up into her throat. Before she knew it she was struggling to breathe.
‘Freya, come on, calm down. Take a deep breath. Slow breaths and look at me.’ He took both of her hands and tried to turn her towards him.
‘I…need to get…out of here.’
Her breathing was rapid now and she wasn’t inhaling properly. Short, shallow bursts were all she could manage.
‘It’s three more floors, OK? Just keep taking deep breaths and look at me. Everything is going to be fine.’
Her chest was burning and she still couldn’t get her breath. She felt out of control and dizzy.
The lift bell rang and the doors opened.
‘We’re here OK? Come on, let’s get you sat down with a glass of water.’
‘It’s…my father…he’s going to…’ Freya tried to speak as Nicholas hurried them both along the corridor. Why was talking difficult? It came so naturally to her. Now it was exhausting.
‘Don’t try to speak, just breathe.’
She leaned into him for support.
‘I…’ she began.
She felt really lightheaded now. As if she’d sucked in the gas from a helium balloon. Walking wasn’t so easy. In fact lying down seemed really appealing. She slumped to the floor.
‘Freya? Oh God! Martin! Call an ambulance!’ Nicholas yelled.
Eighteen
Freya opened her eyes and immediately shut them again. There was a bright white light positioned directly over her head. It could only mean one thing. She was in hospital where nice subtle lighting didn’t exist. She felt sick and her mouth was dry.
‘Freya,’ Nicholas whispered.
She felt his fingers running softly through her hair and she really wanted to go back to sleep.
‘Freya, are you awake?’
She lifted her eyelids open again and this time turned her head slightly and looked at Nicholas. He was sat in the chair next to her, an anxious expression on his face. He took hold of her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it.
‘How’s Mike?’ Freya croaked. She tried to sit up but found she was attached to a drip and the tube tightened with every movement.
‘He’s going to be fine. Lie down, babe.’
‘Is he still here?’
‘He’s going to be fine, Freya, honestly. Roger’s here with him and he’s called his wife. He has a couple of stitches and some bruising. The brain scan was clear.’
‘Brain scan! He had a brain scan! Oh my God! I have to see him.’ She tried sitting up again but her head span the second she accelerated her movements past snail pace.
‘Freya, please try and stay calm. The doctor says you’ve got to rest.’
‘Well the doctor doesn’t know me very well does he? You know how much I hate hospitals and what I hate more than hospitals is laying still. Can we go home? Where’s my handbag?’ She scanned the room for signs of familiarity and started to peel away the tape holding the drip in position.
‘Freya, come on, don’t make this difficult. The doctor says you’re dehydrated and you passed out.’
‘I left my bag at the casino. It has my phone in and my purse and…’ she started.
‘Don’t worry about the damn bag. I’ll call Martin, the manager and have him find it. Freya, you got so worked up you fainted.’
He was repeating himself. Not because he thought she hadn’t heard the first time, but to hammer the point home. She’d got worked up over her father and what he had arranged for Mike and she’d blacked out. It wasn’t like that had never happened before.
‘I know what I did but I’m fine now. I just want to go home.’ She finally managed to sit up.
‘Look, stay in bed, just for a minute. I’ll go and tell the doctor you’re awake and see what I can do. Here, have some water.’ He passed her a plastic cup.
She took a sip of the cool liquid and watched Nicholas leave the room. She took a deep breath and put her hand to her chest. It still felt tight and her head was woolly. She remembered the last time this had happened. She’d been on a flight from Athens to London having ended her relationship with Nicholas and having just spoken to her father. He was the cause of it. Like he was the cause of everything ugly that happened in her life.
Nicholas came back into the room followed by a tall, white-haired, doctor. He had a moustache and a smile. His name badge introduced him as Dr. Mark Stone.
‘Hello, Freya. I’m glad you’re awake. My name is…’ the doctor began. He sat on the edge of Freya’s bed.
‘Dr. Mark Stone, so I see. Why’s that name familiar to me?’
‘Ah well, you’re most probably thinking of Dr. Mark Sloane. Some of my patients say it isn’t just my name that connects me. Do you think I bear a little resemblance to Dick Van Dyke?’ He straightened himself up and pushed his glasses down his nose.
‘Diagnosis Murder! Of course!’
‘I’m afraid Freya’s a bit of a TV addict, Doc.’ Nicholas informed.
‘Well for that I have no cure. Say, Nick, could you get Freya another cup of water while I talk privately with her for a moment?’ Dr. Stone suggested.
‘Sure,’ he agreed. He gave Freya’s hand a reassuring squeeze.
‘It’s OK, Dr. Stone. Anything you have to tell me, you can say in front of Nick.’
They’d promised no more secrets and, if she was honest, she didn’t want to know something she might feel she had to keep from him. She was good at doing that just lately.
‘Humour an old doctor will you, Freya? At my age I do tend to like my routines.’ The doctor smiled at her.
‘It’s OK, babe. I’ll just be outside and you can fill me in on what the doc says later.’
‘I have to admit I really just want to be alone with a pretty young lady. I have to take my chances when they present themselves.’ Dr. Stone let out a laugh as Nicholas left the room.
Freya propped herself up in the bed and looked straight at the doctor.
‘Look, Dr. Stone, can I go home now? I know what happened to me. My blood pressure went through the roof and I passed out. You gave me some vile sedative which is why I feel like crap and my throat feels like I’ve swallowed a whole bag of rock hard pork scratchings.’ She threw the sheet off her legs.
‘Pork what?’ Dr. Stone queried.
‘Never mind. Just go and get me whatever form I need to sign to get myself out of here.’
‘Freya, have you had an episode like this before?’
‘Yes, and the very last time a doctor tried to keep me in hospital against my will he ended up getting admitted himself.’ She tried to shuffle herself off the bed.
‘Freya, please hear me out. I know Nick’s very worried about you.’ He put a hand on her arm.
She sat still on the bed and let out a sigh, avoiding the doctor’s gaze.
‘Have you had any episodes like this before?’ he asked again.
‘A few,’ she admitted.
‘How long ago was the last one?’ He started making notes on his clipboard.
‘It was about eight or nine months ago. But before that I hadn’t had an attack for over ten years.’
‘And before that - ten or so years ago - did you have random attacks or was there a frequency or pattern to things?’
‘Are you sure you’re an MD and not a shrink?’
She was finding the questioning uncomfortable. She didn’t like thinking about ten years ago or any time before that.
‘Is there anything you’d like to tell me, Freya? Perhaps there’s a trigger to the attacks?’
‘I had an unsatisfactory parental role model. That seemed to affect the frequency.’
‘I see and was that a contributing factor to tonight’s attack do you think?’
‘Our driver, our friend, was attacked and our car was wrecked. I think it had more to do with that.’
‘OK, I’m just trying to ge
t a little background on your condition that’s all. Well, we did give you a sedative, Freya. But I have to tell you your attack tonight was extremely serious. Your body actually went into shock and shock at its most acute form can cause death.’
‘Like too much alcohol, cigarettes and fried food?’
‘Much more deadly and faster acting that any of those. I think your condition is something we should start to monitor carefully.’
‘My condition?! Oh, Dr. Stone, I don’t have a condition. It’s a blood pressure and a mild anxiety thing. And like I said I haven’t had an attack for years. I even went through the deep-breathing-blowing-into-a-paper-bag course. I’m fine, honestly.’
‘Freya, it was lucky Nick got you here so quickly or we might not be having this conversation now.’
‘I don’t want tranquilisers or valium or any other pills that are going to turn me into a head case,’ Freya stated.
‘That’s fine, I wasn’t planning on prescribing anything at present. And that leads me on to the next issue.’
‘The next issue?! Just how many issues do I have? I had nothing wrong with me an hour or so ago.’
‘Well, when you were admitted we took some blood to run some precautionary tests. I just got the results back and…’
‘I’m not my father’s daughter? I have some rare type of DNA never been seen before?’
‘All indicators flagged up you’re pregnant.’
Freya felt her whole body stiffen. Her chest tightened and she clutched at the side of the bed. The head rush and dizziness were back.
‘Here, come on. Lie down and take a breath.’ The doctor steadied her and urged her backwards onto the pillow.
‘There must be some mistake.’
She couldn’t be pregnant. They weren’t trying. They weren’t married.
‘Well, I can have the lab run the tests again if you’d like me to. But I have to say they were pretty conclusive. Until you told me about your history of attacks, I was thinking perhaps your changing hormone levels might have caused your collapse tonight.’
‘I can’t be pregnant, Dr. Stone. I’m thirty years old. I know all about contraception and how to use it. And I’ve been using it. I swear.’
‘I don’t doubt you have. As with anything in life, there’s always an element of chance.’
‘Look, there must be an error with the tests. Perhaps they’ve mixed up someone else's results with mine. It happens all the time, I’ve read about it. I mean one minute someone’s told they’re dying. The next minute some poor sod who was told they were fine’s being buried. And the person who’s been blowing everything, thinking he has only months to live is actually fitter than the proverbial butcher’s dog. For God’s sake can you take this drip out of my arm!’ She tugged at the plastic tube.
‘I’d prefer it if you left it in a little while longer until we have your fluids up. Not just for your sake, but for the baby.’
‘I really can’t be pregnant, Dr. Stone. So, please, get me a release form so I can go home.’
‘I’d really like you to have a scan and then we can be a hundred per cent certain one way or the other.’
‘No. No scans, no more tests and no more prodding and poking. Please, I just want to go home.’
Tears were in her eyes now and her breath was catching again. She wanted ‘normal’ back.
‘OK, come on, take a deep breath. Here, dry your eyes. I’ll go and get Nick.’ He offered her a tissue from a box on the cabinet. She took one and wiped her eyes as the doctor left the room.
She couldn’t be pregnant. She was careful. She’d always been careful. And Nicholas, he didn’t have the same chances of conception most men did. It was so unlikely.
Nicholas entered the room and smiled at her.
‘Hey, you OK?’ He put his arms around her.
‘I’m fine. I just want to get out of here, Nick. Please take me home.’ She buried her head in his chest inhaling the familiar fragrance of his body.
‘I’ll organise a car. The police want to speak to us, but I’ll tell them to come to the house tomorrow. I think you’ve had enough excitement for one night.’ He kissed the top of her head.
‘I’m sorry I collapsed on you.’ She wiped at her eyes and sat up to look at him.
‘That’s OK. It was a shock. I mean I am kind of used to you passing out if you’ve been on the tequila. But after a couple of beers, I knew something was wrong. You’re made of sterner stuff than that.’
‘D’you think it was my father? You know, who attacked Mike?’ Freya asked him.
‘Is that what you think?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Is that what made you have the anxiety attack? The thought of him being involved?’
‘There’s something I haven’t told you.’
‘Again? Is this about Jonny?’
‘No. It isn’t about Jonny.’
‘Go on.’
‘I got some hate mail in the post today. It was a letter, it just said the word “bitch”, nothing else.’
‘What?! Why didn’t you tell me this morning?’
‘I don’t know. I should have, but we’d just made up and…’
‘Freya, we need to talk to the police about this. Where is this note?’
‘It was in my handbag. The one I left at the casino.’
‘Right, well let’s go home. I’m having Roger contact the security firm. Tomorrow morning I’m afraid we’re having a new alarm system fitted, locks put on all the windows, a new front door, CCTV at the gate and…’ he began.
‘Oh no, Nick, no. I don’t want our home turned into a fortress. Please.’
‘I’m sorry, Freya. I’m not taking any chances anymore.’
Having somehow heard about the car attack on the journalists’ grapevine, there were scores of photographers outside their home when they arrived back in Mayleaf.
‘I’m going to get a bigger, higher gate put up and there will be no more making tea for the photographers either. You just don’t know who you can trust.’ He drove the car through the front gate and pulled up outside their door.
Freya didn’t respond. She was still trying to take in the day’s events. It was all too much to think about and she was tired. She just wanted to curl up in her own bed and go to sleep.
‘So, did the doctor give you the all clear?’ Nicholas asked.
‘Yeah, I’ve had episodes like this before. I used to get them quite often when I lived with him.’ She opened the car door.
‘And you haven’t told me that either. Why are you keeping this stuff to yourself? We’re a team.’ He followed her up the steps.
‘I didn’t tell you because it’s embarrassing. You know the sort of person I am. I like to think I can take on the world and win. But the truth is, when the going really gets tough I freak out. Remember when Emma nearly lost the baby? I spent an hour at the hospital waiting for news about her, blowing into a paper bag, trying to keep a grip on things. That same night, when I told you who my father was, it was all I could do to get the story out without passing out.’
‘Come on, let’s get you inside and I’ll make some tea.’ He opened the front door.
Willis came bounding down the hallway to greet them both and started to weave himself in and out of Freya’s legs as she tried to walk towards the kitchen.
‘Hi, Willis,’ she greeted.
Nicholas stopped in the doorway and turned around to face Freya. She knew just by looking at him something wasn’t right.
‘Hey, why don’t you go and put on one of those trashy dramas you like watching and I’ll make the tea.’ He took her hand and started to lead her back up the hall.
‘What’s the matter? Why don’t you want me going in the kitchen? I want to feed Willis.’ She stood her ground.
‘I’ll feed him. You need to rest.’
‘I need things to be normal again. That’s what I need.’ She brushed past Nicholas and entered the kitchen.
All around the room there were p
hotographs. They covered all the worktops of the kitchen units. Some were stuck to the walls and the appliances and even the windows. They were photographs of her and Nicholas. Except they had been altered. Freya’s face had been cut out of each and every picture.
‘Oh my God, Nick!’ Freya exclaimed. She put her hands to her face.
Nineteen
The bright light coming through the bedroom window woke Freya the following morning. Willis jumped up from his position at the bottom of the bed and walked all over her body to get to her face and lick it. Freya reached for her glasses and put them on. The bedside clock told her it was nine thirty.
Shocked by the time, she pulled back the duvet and leapt out of bed. She grabbed her robe and hurried out of the bedroom.
She ran down stairs and rushed into the kitchen, Willis struggling to keep up with her.
Nicholas was sat at the breakfast bar, reading through his script.
‘Why didn’t you wake me? I’ve got an appointment this morning.’ She pulled open a cupboard and got out the cat food.
‘I thought you could do with the sleep. It was gone two when the police left.’
‘Well, that isn’t going to change my appointment time is it? I’m never going to make it to the office in thirty minutes. I’m not even dressed.’ She dropped the tin-opener on the floor.
‘Hey, come on. I’ll call Sasha. I’ll tell her you’re not coming in today. She can see to the appointments.’ He stood up and picked up the tin-opener.
‘I want to go in today. I want to go in and pretend none of this is happening.’ She started to open the can.
‘Come on, Freya. Sit down, have some tea. Willis is playing you by the way, I’ve already fed him this morning. Come, sit down.’ He took her arm and guided her towards the breakfast bar.
‘I just feel like I want to press rewind on the last couple of days and re-record.’ She put her elbows on the table, resting her head in her hands.
‘It hasn’t been the best, but we have the police involved now. Then Roger’s coming over later to see to the new security arrangements.’
‘Nick, I don’t want to be locked in this house with infrared beams and cameras and a portcullis coming down at the front door. That isn’t living.’